The 3rd Wheel

 Disclaimer

The 3^rd Wheel

 

“Bro, there’s nothing attractive about this girl at all, to me. Other people might like that, but not me,” Adam said, as he thumbed through the profile pictures of a fat girl that liked him on Tinder.

“Man,” Pan waved his hand dismissively. “She bad. I’d take her down.”

Adam, Pan, Elbe, and large white man named Homer, sat side by side at a bar. The bar, located in a restaurant called Gladiators, was at the top floor in the hotel. Pretty standard by most bar standards, it had a fair number of booths on the wall, a couple tables in the middle, and T.V. screens playing soccer.

Adam shook his head. “Ay, man. That’s more for you, because I don’t want it.” He turned to Elbes, a large black man with a full beard and black glasses and showed him the girl. “Elbes, what you think?”

Elbes, who was already 6 beers deep, squinted, then looked at Pan. “Ay, Pan. That’s all you, bro.”

Pan sucked his teeth. “Man, ya’ll some weirdos. She look good.”

Adam smiled. “Alright, bro. I’ll remember that next time I meet a girl with a big friend.” His phone vibrated and he opened a WhatsApp conversation with Frenchie, a half French, half German girl he met a week before. They had chemistry, liked the same things, all the prerequisites for the most important thing: sex. He was trying to smash. As a single man in his early thirties, what was he supposed to do? Wife girls on dating apps? Terrible idea. Since he arrived in Europe, he had four prospects, and Frenchie was number two. He hoped she would come through tonight.

What are you doing tonight? She asked.

Going out. You?

Adam put his phone down. “Ya’ll boys ready to go?”

Pan, Elbes, and Homer agreed. They paid the bartender and stood up. “Ya’ll trying to go out tonight?”

Elbes and Homer shook their heads. “Nah, I’m already drunk enough. I don’t feel like getting dressed.”

“Pan?” Adams said, turning to Pan.

“Yup. I’m down.”

They left the bar; Adam and Homer walked deeper in the hotel, while Adam and Pan walked toward the nearest exit, through the sliding doors and into the crisp cool air. Thankfully, there’s no wind, just a faint drizzle, enough to know it’s there, but too light to actually feel anything.

Pan, a large light skinned black man wearing a brown sweater walked as if he hadn't stretched in thirty years, while Adam, a tall, athletic, brown skinned Hispanic man, walked as if he had too much energy.

“This cold makes me not even wanna go out,” Pan said, as he put his hands in his sweater pockets.

“True,” Adam said, barely paying attention. His focus was more on a Whatsapp conversation with Frenchie. His phone dinged. A message from Frenchie:

Not sure if we’re gonna go downtown, my friend can’t make up her mind, so yea.

Adam thumbed his reply:

Me and my friend in downtown, yall should come

A lie. Adam and Pan weren’t in downtown. They were still on base, leaving the hotel, but he hoped it would offer some incentive.

Adam and Pan climb into Pan’s tiny car. A stick shift, but Pan is so big and Adams legs are so long it makes it difficult for Pan to shift. They pull out and head to lodging.

Where are ya’ll?

Pan drives into the lodging parking lot and Adam gets out. “Ay man,” Adam says, staring at his phone. “They wanna know where we at. Imma tell ‘em Mcdonalds.”

“Bet,” Pan responded.

Adam begins making his way to his room, then stops and turns around. “What time you gonna be ready?”

“Ten minutes,” Pan says.

Adam starts typing his response as he walks through the sliding glass doors and up the stairs to his room.

We at Mcdonalds. Where are yall at?

On our way. Going to hookah lounge, be there around 10.

Adam checked the time on his phone. 9:30pm. He climbed the stairs, walked into his room, got dressed, then text Pan.  

Ready?

Elbes going?

Adam fixed his lips in a thin line. He had a suspicion Pan was trying to back out because he didn't know what Frenchie’s friend looked like. Somewhat understandable, but not really. It's not like he had to have sex with the friend. He only needed to entertain her. Honestly, it was a bitch move.

Adam had no doubt he could get Frenchie to send a picture of her friend, but first Adam needed a backup plan. If Pan was going to back out, that meant Adam needed another way downtown. He picked up the phone, scrolled through WhatsApp, and called three people he knew didn’t drink. None of them answered. He called the fourth, a large man named Boston.

After three rings, Boston picked up. “Hello.”

“Yo, Boston, its Adam. Can you take me to downtown?”

“Yea, no problem, man, you just gotta buy me lunch.”

Adam smiled. “Man, I’ll buy you lunch and dinner.”

“Cool, what time?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Alright.”

“Thanks.”

Adam hung up the phone and looked at his chat with Pan. Nothing. I should just leave him, Adam thought, but decided against it. He shook his head, then asked Frenchie for a picture of her friend. About ten seconds later, Adam is staring at a picture of Frenchie and her friend. Frenchie is there, smiling, in sunglasses, but the friend is leaning on Frenchie’s shoulder, and he couldn’t get a good look. She was definitely big, but beyond that, it was hard to tell. Good enough, Adam thought, since Pan, not two hours earlier, had expressed his interest in big women.

Adam sent the picture to Pan, who quickly responded with, Why I get the busted one?

Adam ignored the question and began walking out of his room. His phone dinged. Frenchie.

Hold on, I’m going to send you one where my friend looks better.

A few seconds later two more pictures came through. They’re better pictures, but the girl still didn't look good. In fact, she looked worse. She looked about 280, long hair, and her face was covered in makeup. Still, from everything Adam had seen, Pan, by his own words and actions, should be find with this girl.

Adam sent the new pictures to Pan.

Ok, she looks better here. Pan responded.

Looks like I was right, Adam thought. The only problem was Pan still hadn’t said he was going. Adam thumbed a text.

Well, I’m about to leave so…

How you getting there? Pan asked.

Van.

You driving?

No.

Adam waited for a bit longer. No response. He shook his head, then walked downstairs, through the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot.

He looked around and saw the van, a black Mercedes, exhaust drifting up past the bright red tail lights. He walked over, opened the door, and to his surprise, saw five other guys sitting in the back seats. The Liar, a tall white boy, about 6’2, known for his charisma and outrageous stories; to his right was The Surfer, who spoke, dressed, and acted like a surfer boy from California, only he was from Iowa; across from them was The Viking, a 6’4, muscular giant, who looked like he was from Iowa, but was actually from California; to his right was Pippin, a small, quiet, married, white guy who looked like Pippin from Lord of the Rings; in the drivers seat was Boston, a husky white guy wearing glasses and a green hat; sitting in the passenger seat, was, to Adam's surprise, R Kelly, a bearded white guy from Georgia who was known to throw parties at his house for girls ranging from 19 to 22. R Kelly was 38.

“Yo whattup,” Adam said as he crawled in the van and sat next to the Viking.

Everyone shook his hand, and Adam turned over his shoulder, tapped R Kelly on the shoulder and said “Yooooooo.” 

R Kelly smiled. They were both in Japan last year.

Boston turned his head. “Where’s Pan?”

“I dunno,” Adam shrugged.  “Imma call him.”

Adam picked up his phone and dialed Pan’s number.

“Yo,” Pan answers.

“You comin?” Adam asked.

“How you getting there?”

“Boston’s driving.”

“How you getting back?”

“Boston driving back.”

A pause. “Nah imma sit this one out.”

Idiot, Adam thought. This is the second time this guy has left me hanging. Not that I care, I can handle myself, two girls ain’t nothing, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Alright bro,” Adam said, then hung up the phone.

“Pan is out. It’s just me.” Adam says.

Boston backed the van out and started driving off base.

“You coming out with us?" The Liar asked.

Adam shook his head. “I’m going somewhere different.”

“Where you going?” R Kelly asked.

“Cloudy Hookah.”

“Oh shit, that’s like five minutes from where we’re gonna be at.”

“That’s good,” Adam looked at the Viking, and an idea popped in his head. The type of idea that can only come from necessity. Adam didn’t need a wingman, but it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe necessity was the wrong word. Convenience. Yes. An idea born of the desire for convenience and comfort. It wasn't necessary, but a wingman would make things a lot easier. It would allow Frenchie to focus her efforts on other things, like Adam.

“Ay bro, since Pan left me hanging, I might need your help.”

The Viking’s eyebrows rose. “Yea? Whattup?’’

Adam pulled out his phone and showed The Viking a picture of Frenchie’s friend, in all her fat glory. “I might need someone to entertain her while I’m talking to her friend.”

He laughs. “Bro, I got you.”

Adams eyebrows arch, he’s a bit taken aback. “Forreeal?”

The Viking grinned. “Yea man.”

“Ay, thanks,” Adam responds, then dapped him up.

The van drove through the gate, as Adam started texting Frenchie.

Yo, I’m gonna be late. My friend left.

No friend for my friend? Frenchie asked.

I’m in a van full of like 8 white dudes, I’m sure I can find someone for your friend.

She responded with a laughing emoji. My friend wants a picture.

Adam looks up from his phone at The Viking. “Ay bro, they wanna see a picture of you.”

He smiled and began tapping his phone. “Easy.”

Moments later a picture of the Viking standing on a bridge popped up on Adams phone. Adam sent it to Frenchie who responded with a frown emoji. My friends not into white guys.

Adam responded with a laughing emoji.

She puts a shrug emoji.

Adam didn't tell the Viking anything. He knew a picture was only 15%. The most important factor was they'd respond in his actual presence, hearing his voice, listening to his jokes. He'd been working with the Viking for years. Adam wasn't too worried.

They drove the rest of the way, listening to The Liar concoct a story he’s planned to tell a woman he meets. “It’s gonna be epic!” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m going to tell them I’m in astronaut training and I’m on leave, but I have to go back to space in two months…and get this…” He put his hand in front of his face. “I’m going to say, baby, I want to make my last memories on Earth with you.”

Adam nodded. Not bad.

They arrived downtown, then drove into a nearby parking garage, but Boston spent 15 minutes trying to find a parking spot because the van was enormous, and the parking spots in Germany were for cars no bigger than those fisher price cars kids drive with their feet. Finally, Boston admitted defeat, then droves out of the parking garage and onto the street.

“Stop right here,” R Kelly said. “Adam can get off here, Cloud Hookah is like five minutes that way,” He pointed down a crowded walkway.

“Appreciate that,” Adam responded, then opened the door and jogged onto the sidewalk. A group of men wearing thick bubble jackets crowded next to him waiting to cross the street.

Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and opened Google Maps. Thankfully, the hookah spot was only a 5-minute walk.

The crossing sign turned green, and Adam crossed the street and made his way down cobblestone streets covered in puddles. Music blared from various bars, the smell of food wafted from all the nearby restaurants. People, both drunk, and sober, stood practically shouting at each other.

He passed a group of women, who were wearing stockings and a light jacket. How women, dressed in almost nothing, could stand the cold was beyond him. Even in the states, it could be snowing, and the women would still show skin. They must have some sort of immunity to the cold. That’s the only way.

He passed a Doner restaurant, They’re like the Waffle House of Germany, Adam thought. They’re everywhere, on every corner. Sometimes two within a 5-minute walk.

Glancing at his phone, he turned left and looked up. A purple sign had a Hookah pipe wrapped around white letters that read Cloud Hookah. He stepped inside and saw stairs leading upward.

WYA (Where you at) He text Frenchie.

Five Minutes, she responded.

Adam leaned up against the wall, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. Most people would be nervous, meeting a new girl for the first time. Adam, not so much. It was either going to work out or not, but at least he had someone to talk to. It wasn’t really about the sex for him, although it was important, it was more about female attention. Female attention was different, it had a restorative energy to it. A nurturing quality. He felt better, both physically and mentally, when women paid attention to him. They didn’t need to be romantically interested, although, the more they were desired him, the better it made him feel, but it didn’t matter, he was satisfied as long as they gave him attention. Not surprising, he didn’t want attention from an ugly girl, or a fat one. No, she had to be cute, at least 7 or above. Why he felt this, why he wanted this, he did not know, although he suspected his ego had much to do with it, but, more importantly, he felt a deep desire for the attention. Perhaps it was basic biology, maybe dopamine was triggered by female attention, or maybe it was the ego.

Who knows.

Adam knew, after having conversations with several of them, that women did not understand this concept. After all, how could they? They’re constantly receiving male attention, especially in the military. Every time Adam deployed, he’d see a woman surrounded by five guys, all giving her attention, whether they meant to do it or not. Women couldn’t understand this, because they live in a world where men are constantly paying attention to them, so when a man says he likes female attention, they fix their face in confusion-or judgement-and claim they don’t need it.

Five-minutes pass and two girls walk through the threshold. Frenchie, the shorter one, had blond hair, pretty eyes, and full lips. Cute. Easy 7, maybe even an 8. Her friend however...she was big, and probably weighed more than Adam, but she was at least a foot shorter. Her face was covered in makeup, and her chest, not her breasts, was showing. She had a large stomach and even larger legs.

“Whattup,” Adam said as he opened his arms for a hug. Frenchie stepped in and they embrace, then pull apart. “We finally see each other,” Adam said, smiling.

Frenchie smiled.

Adam turned and gave her friend a brief hug. She said something, probably her name, but he couldn’t understand what she said. Is she drunk already? he thought.

“Huh?” Adam asked.

Frenchie’s friend mutters something unintelligible.

“Huh?” Adam repeated.

Frenchie’s friend repeated whatever word she was trying to say, but Adam just nodded, put his arm around Frenchie and walked up the stairs and through a tinted door and into the lounge.

Purple light illuminated the dark hookah lounge. Two large couches sat in the middle, and a beautiful mixed girl stood behind a marble bar serving drinks. To Adams surprise, the DJ was playing hip hop, and not top 40s generic hip hop, but good, solid, respectable hip hop. Even more surprising was everyone in the lounge was a minority. A few Hispanics, even less Asians, maybe two white people, but everyone else was black. Being his first time in Europe, Adam didn’t expect to see so many minorities, much less this many in a single spot. It was comforting, but part of him wanted to have a more…European experience. Being surrounded by minorities while Hip Hop played was fine, but he could get that back in the States. Still…he thought, looking at Frenchie. This might be a decent European experience.

He walked up to the server, a mixed woman with long black hair.

“How many?” she asked.

“3,” Adam replied.

The server and Adam look around. There wasn’t an empty booth in the lounge. That didn’t really bother Adam, he could make friends with anyone, but he had no idea how the girls would feel about it.

“This way,” the server said as she led them to a booth with 6 guys and one girl smoking a hookah.

Before he sat down, Adam leaned over and introduced himself, dapping up the 6 guys and saying hi to the girl who sat in the corner holding the hookah hose.

After the last introduction, he and Frenchie sat down at the end of a long multi colored couch, while Hippo sat across from them. Hippo orders a Hookah, while Adam orders two shots.

Hippo leaned forward. “Where is your friend?”

Adam looked at his phone and shook his head. “He ain’t coming.”

Hippo frowned, but Adam held up a finger to indicate he was working on the problem. She smiled, leaned back, while Adam sent a text to The Viking.

Yo bro, she said she only likes black guys, but I think you can handle it. I think you can be the one to fix it. Come thru.

Adam put his phone down. “Hopefully my other friend will come through.”

She clapped her hands and began dancing to the music, and Adam turned to Frenchie and began talking. Five minutes pass and the hookah arrives, followed by the drinks, and shortly after, everyone is enjoying themselves. Hippo is dancing to the music, Adam and Frenchie are engaged in conversation while they passed the hookah between them.

Adam leaned into Frenchie and whispered something in her ear, she smiles and, to his surprise, snuggles up to him. He puts his arm around her and makes a joke about dungeons and dragons. They both laugh, and Adam turns to pick up his drink and sees a skinny black guy in a red shirt sitting next to Hippo.

The man grins. “Ay, man, I saw you and your girl together, and her,” he put his arm around Hippo,  “Sitting by herself. I didn’t feel like it was right for her to third wheel the whole night, so I thought I’d come and take her off your hands.”

Adam smiled, leans forward and dapped the guy up. “Ay, that’s wassup bro.”

Adam ordered another round of shots and a glass of crown and coke, then picked up his phone and text the Viking.

Ay nvm, she found someone, its all good.

The server delivered another round of shots, and the four of them down the alcohol and continue having a good time. Adam and Frenchie get lost in conversation again, leaning in close, laughing and whispering, when Adam looked up and saw a giant, 6’3 blond man with a green and red cheeks that said he was about 6 or 7 drinks in.

The Viking.

Adam stood up. “Ay bro, I text you never mind.”

The Vikings pocket chimed and he pulled out his phone and bellowed a laugh from deep in his chest. “Bro, I just got the message just now.”

“Ay bro, I really appreciate you coming thru.”

“Anytime man.”

They dap and the Viking left.

Adam sat back down and put his arm around Frenchie who was laughing at the Hippo and the random black guy who had started kissing.

Adam and Frenchie exchanged glances. She gets down like that? Adam thought. She just met dude like 15 minutes ago.

The skinny black guy whispered something into Hippos ear, and Hippo turned to Adam and Frenchie. “I need your blessing to go home with him.”

Adam made the sign of the cross on his chest. “Yes, go."

They stood up and stepped out of the booth, then about 30 seconds later, Hippo walked back, and said something to Frenchie in German. Frenchie rolled her eyes and turned to Adam. “I’ll be right back.”

Adam leaned back and watched them leave. So far the hookah lounge served his purposes, although he was sure Frenchie had more to do with how much fun he was having than the lounge itself. Still, this might be by go to spot from now on…Adam thought as he nodded along to an Ice Cube song.

A server walked by carrying a bottle of champagne, and Adam turned over his shoulder to see a crowd of people sitting in the booth behind him getting ready to sing happy birthday to one of the few white people in the lounge.

His gaze wandered and he picked out three girls at the far end of the lounge, each one so beautiful they made Frenchie look like a 4. The part of Adam’s brain, the selfish part, tried to take over, urging him to leave Frenchie and try his luck with one of the three girls. After a couple seconds (a struggle indeed!) Adam quelled the urge, understanding if things don’t go well with Frenchie, he was sure he’d run into those girls again. They looked like regulars.

It was a strange thing to be honest. A regular at a Hookah longue. Why are they there? A good time? Looking for love? Or is it the socially acceptable thing to do? Adam was here because he wanted to see Frenchie in person, and this is where she suggested, but he couldn’t imagine being the regular at a bar. Back home, he didn’t really drink and if he wanted to look for love he would simply find a girl and talk to them. Anywhere. Well, anywhere appropriate. It’s a different time though.

Frenchie, and to Adams disappointment, Hippo, come back and took their respective seats. Rather than ask what happened, he resumed his conversation with Frenchie. About twenty minutes pass and an extremely attractive woman sits next to Hippo. Adam couldn’t tell if she was Filipino or Turkish, but they look to be having fun.

Frenchie leaned into Adam and whispered. “I wonder if that girl knows Hippo is bisexual.”

The girl stood up and left, and moments later Frenchie excused herself to the bathroom leaving Adam and Hippo alone. Adam leaned forward. “How you and Frenchie become friends?”

Hippo muttered something unintelligible, and after a few moments, seemed to realize, most likely due to the confused expression on Adams face, that he didn’t understand her, so she spoke again, this time more slowly. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half. We met through a mutual friend, he was like a game designer or something.”

“How’d you know the girl who was just here?” Adam asked.

“I know a lot of people here. I know the DJ, the bouncer,” she pointed at three different people, “them over there, and the bartender.” She smiled. “Where’s your friend?”

Adam shook his head. “He ain’t coming.”

She pouted.

He put his hands up and shrugged. “Next time.”

She smiled and started dancing to the music.

Frenchie sat down and leaned in. “You look better in person than your pictures.”

“You cute,” Adam responded. “If I didn’t think you were cute, I would’ve shook your hand instead of gave you a hug.” He mimicked a handshake.

She laughed then looked at Hippo. “Ready?”

“Ready?” Adam asked. “Where we going?”

She stood up and grabbed her coat. “This club called Upside and there’s supposed to be Atlanta strippers there. You coming?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” He looked up at Hippo. “I pay for the alcohol you pay for the hookah?”

She smiled and nodded.

Adam waved the server over. “I’ll pay for the alcohol, she got the Hookah.”

The server nodded, then calculated the tab.

Frenchie reached for her wallet. “Do you have Euros, because they don’t take card. I can pay…”

Wow, this girl ready to pay?? Dope, Adam thought. “Nah, I got Euros,” Adam said. He paid, then turned around, told the guy happy birthday, which got a smile out of some of the girls, then put his arm around Frenchie, walked out of the lounge, and down the stairs and back onto the cobblestone street.

Frenchie shivered and put her arms around Adams waist. “We gonna go to the car and get some more alcohol.”

Images flashed of the girls leading Adam down an alleyway to be ambushed and robbed. The familiar sensation spread throughout him. Whispering.

It’s a setup.

There weren’t any guns in Europe, which meant all he had to do was worry about getting jumped, or stabbed, which didn’t really bother him too much considering he was a Muay Thai champion in Florida and Kentucky. He could handle himself, all he had to do was keep his head on a swivel, and he should be able to, at the very least, run away into a crowded area. “Let’s do it.”

They walk to the car, Hippos shrill voice bouncing off the empty alley walls, until they found themselves on a sidewalk. They continued down the sidewalk and stopped beside a tiny green car. Hippo opened the door, reached inside the car, and retrieved a half-filled bottle of Ciroc. After she took a long sip, Adam reached out, and she handed him the bottle and watched him drain the last of it.

She took the empty bottle, threw it into the car, shut the door, and they started walking to the club. They crossed the street, and Adam started singing Usher, Nice and Slow, and to his surprise, Frenchie joined him, her voice was melodic, smooth, and most importantly, on key.

Adam and Frenchie embrace in a drunken hug and, then turn the corner and stumble into an alleyway. In front of them, about twenty feet, was a large tent, with three large men in black clothing wearing grim expressions. Bass from a rap song booms in the background.

“Welcome to Upside,” Hippo said as she walked underneath the tent, then began chatting with one of the men in black clothing. Adam walked up, spread his arms, assuming they wanted to pat him down, but they just ushered him forward. He flashed a grin, bumped fists with the security guard, and walk through a large set of double doors in into the lobby. Several women dressed in clothing that left little to the imagination stood around a table in the middle of the lobby. To the right, men and woman sat on the stair, and to the left was the entrance to the dance area. Similar to the hookah lounge, the vast majority of the crowd is black, except instead of Hispanics, there were a fair amount of what appeared to be middle eastern men and women.

Adam looked around for somewhere to wait, when he noticed, to his surprise, Boston and R Kelly leaning against the brick wall to his right.

Adam grinned, approached them, dapped them up and introduced Frenchie and Hippo as “Frenchies friend,” as he still had not learned her name.

R Kelly extended his hand to Frenchie and introduced himself. “I’m R Kelly. My family is from Mannheim.”

"Oh really? I have a cousin in Mannheim," Frenchie said.

"Yea, I've been out here before. I really love Europe. Were you born here?"

"Yes, I was. I was born in Frankfurt."

"Wow!" R Kelly's eyes widened. He put his hand on his chest. "I was born in Frankfurt too"

Adam shook his head, and half smiled. This guy is trying way too hard at building a connection, he thought.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Frenchie replied.

“Yeah and…”

She turned to leave, cutting him off mid-sentence, and Adam, Hippo, and Frenchie walked into the club. Men and women stood, basically shoulder to shoulder, dressed in bright colors, holding drinks, and puffing smoke in the air. Couples were doing their best to dance together, but the sheer amount of people, made the task awkward at best and impossible at worst.

Frenchie and Hippo snuck away to the bathroom, leaving Adam standing beside a large staircase, which led to the V.I.P section on the second floor. On the ground floor, in front of Adam stood a bar at least thirty feet long, lit by pink and red lights.

Not my kind of spot…but it’ll do for tonight, Adam thought.

The girls came out of the bathroom, and Adam took Frenchie’s hand and led her through the crowd, passing the Viking, who stood beside Pippin, swaying to the music, staring at the stage. Adam and Frenchie stopped near another staircase and attempt to dance, while Hippo went from dancing by herself, to dancing with random men she found on the dance floor.

Pippin walked out from the crowd, and an idea struck Adam. He motioned over to Hippo and grabbed Pippin by his shoulders. “This my friend, Pippin.”

Pippin was about 5’5, red hair, and looked like the most ordinary guy Adam had even seen in his life.

She looked at Pippin, then looked at Adam with an ‘are you serious?’ expression.

Pippin must’ve seen it, because he pat Adam on the back and said, “Alright man, I’ll see you later.”

They continued to dance until the main attraction hit the stage.

The Atlanta strippers.

These girls were built different; 5'8, 130 pounds of long hair, flat stomachs, and toned muscle, but not the muscle of a body builder. No. One wouldn't catch a trace of muscle on their slender, lithe, frames until they’re sliding up and down the pole doing flag poles, hanging from their stilettos, and circling around the pole as if their walking on air. These women were professional, not like the ones in the outskirts of base.

After an hour of dancing, Frenchie asked Adam to accompany her to waiting room. They made their way through the crowd, into the waiting room, and sat down on the steps.

“Too many people,” she said while fanning herself. They relaxed, talked a bit, then went back in, but this time they stood by the door. After few minutes passed and security rushed in.

A fight.

Security hauled three men from the club and not three minutes after that, a flood of people stepped back, and Adam turned to see six guys form a circle and start punching one guy in the middle, who stood, covering his face with his arms, absorbing the punishment, trying to maintain his balance. The guy in the middle straightened up to throw a punch, but got caught in the middle his attack, a clean fist to the jaw, and collapsed. Lights out. He lay flat on his back, arms and legs stretched out. Moments later, a girl fell to her knees, cradling his head trying to wake him up.

Jeers, taunts, and sounded around club, and Adam shook his head in sympathy. Anyone with some sense knows this man didn’t lose a fight. He got jumped by six guys for who knows what, then got knocked out, but people aren’t logical. They don't think like that.  All they saw was him lying on his back, unconscious, dead to the world. Humanity is binary. You win or you lose. Everything else, no matter how valid your argument is, doesn’t matter. You win or you lose.

Sucks.

Security rushed in, picked the guy up, and as they’re carrying him out, Adam saw his eyes snap open and ask “What happened? What happened? Where am I?”

Concussion. Hope he gets checked out, and more importantly, hopefully he doesn’t wake up to a flood of Instagram videos of him getting knocked out. Hopefully his girl stays with him. 

That’s why Adam tried to avoid these types of clubs. Everything is all good until you’re the one getting jumped. Some people, they’re like packs of Hyena’s looking for prey, and he didn't want be the Zebra out by himself. Sometimes you can be IN the herd and still get targeted. Doesn’t matter how good of a fighter you are. This ain’t the movies. You aren’t beating up six guys at a time.

Shortly afterwards, the strippers left and the club started to empty. The music was still playing, but instead of strippers, there was a group of men, clearly military, on stage flashing gang signs and dancing.

Time to go.

Adam and Frenchie leave the dance area and take a seat on the stairs in the waiting area.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Frenchie said.

“Yea, tonight was dope,” Adam replied.

Frenchie rested her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Sucks for Hippo, I had to babysit her.”

Adam looked up to see Hippo talking to random men. Surprisingly, he didn’t sense an air of desperation. It was more of a, I’m drunk and just talking to anyone, instead of begging for a man to take her home.

“Yea,” Adam sighed. “I tried to find her someone, but she too picky.”

He looked at his phone and saw it was 3 am. “Damn, its 3 am, where did the time go?” He looked around for Boston, Viking, R Kelly, or Pippin. No one in sight.

His phone started chiming. Six texts, along with a notification he’d missed 7 calls.

You comin or you with your girl?

We about to leave? You going home with your girl?

You gonna hit?

Can I join? but im not sleeping with the fat one

Adam frowned.  “Guess there’s no service in there.”

Frenchie shook her head. “Nope. I thought I told you.”

Hopefully, they didn’t leave. He picked up the phone and called Boston.

“Yo, you guys still downtown?” Adam asked.

“Yea, we’re still here. You coming?”

Adam looked at Frenchie and sighed. There’s no way nothing was happening tonight. It wasn’t a bad night, not by any means, he just wanted to end it in her bed. “Yea. I’ll be there, gimmie like 10.”

He hung up, put his arm around Frenchie and held her close. “Yo, I had fun. Trying to see you again.”

She nodded. “Yea, I had fun too, lets do something next time.”

He gave her a hug, found Hippo in the crowd, gave her a hug, then walked out of the club and under the tent.

Rain drops hit the tent. Thankfully it was a light rain, but it was still cold, and the sweat from the dancing didn’t help matters. He made his way down the alley, following Siri’s prompts from google maps, until he found Boston, Pippin, R Kelly, and Viking sitting under a large umbrella.

Boston’s eyes arched in surprise. “Didn’t expect to drive you home tonight.”

Adam shrugged. “Her friend, bro. She wasn’t trying to do anything because her friend was around.”

“Sorry, bro,” Viking said. “I tried.”

“Nah man, it ain’t your fault. Honestly its Pans. She only brought a friend because I said I was bringing one. Then he bailed. It’s alright though, we had a good time, there’s always next time.”

R Kelly leaned against the wall, arms cross, a slight curl on his upper lip, while everyone else looked like they were trying not to throw up. We walked to the van, which was parked, probably illegally, in front of a gate. They piled into the car and Boston started it up.

“Where’s Liar and Surfer?” Adam asked.

“They found these two Brazilian girls and went to a different club. Then they ditched me,” R Kelly mumbled as he fastened his seat belt.

“You were with them?” Adam asked.

“Yea, for most of the night. It was all five of us, but then they said they were going to the bathroom, and they never came back.”

Adam nodded in understanding. That’s why R Kelly was mad. 

He was the third wheel.